


i've got a way with words and it's the cause of all my problems

by skellington



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M, ashton got mad at michael so he cursed him, but michael can't reverse it, calum is a dogwalker, in a friendly matter, michael busks, not in like a bad way, talking dogs are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:34:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skellington/pseuds/skellington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, so Michael makes Ashton an old man one time, and this is what he gets? </p>
<p>Or, Michael played a prank on Ashton a month ago and Ashton finds revenge in cheesy pickup lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've got a way with words and it's the cause of all my problems

Michael really should have seen this coming. Honestly.

Ashton is a definite grudge-keeper, and Michael _knows_ this; has for the longest time. Hell, just a couple weeks ago, Ashton smacked him in the back of the head for that one time in fifth grade when Michael stepped on his hand during recess. (In Michael's defense, Ashton had abnormally large hands for a ten year old. It was nearly impossible _not_ to step on them.)

So, he really should have known that he wasn't going to get off easy when he turned Ashton into an old man last month. He was stuck in the saggy body of an eighty year old man for a week and a half, which equaled a week and a half of Lashton Abstinence, which equated to a very grumpy, sex-deprived, ready-to-kill-Michael Ashton; which is why he was surprised that Ashton let him off the hook with a slap on the wrist and flick of the ear. It was suspiciously tame.

Michael understands why, now, as he's sitting in his usual spot at the city park, halfway through his cover of 'I Miss You' by blink-182, and he abruptly sings, _"If you were a fruit, you'd be a Fine-apple."_ Michael has no idea where it came from, or why it came out, but he _does_ know that the cute boy currently walking three dogs is staring at him with a look torn between mortification and amusement. Michael is definitely expressing the former. He tries to remedy the terrible line, correct himself, but instead, he says, "Do you know what my shirt is made of? Boyfriend material."

That was not supposed to happen. Michael doesn't even know any terrible pick-up lines. What is going _on?_

And suddenly, it hits him.

_Ashton Fletcher Irwin._

Oh, he is _so_ dead.

Michael's face is burning, both in humiliation and anger at his best friend, and he wants to apologize to the stranger, who's laughing now (it sounds like literal _music,_ prettier than any song Michael's ever played), but he knows that if he tries to speak again, the words he wants to say will make their way into another terrible line. This is awful.

"That was horrible," says Cute Dog-Walker Boy, still chuckling, and _yeah,_ Michael wants to say, _he knows._ He just smiles shyly instead.

"Whoa. Your hair," the boy breathes, and oh, yeah; Michael forgot about that little trick -- his hair tells his mood. He's guessing that right now, it's probably an atrocious shade of red or pink, but Cute Dog-Walker Boy seems impressed, so he smirks to himself.

"How'd you do it?" The boy asks, and Michael wants to flirt and say something along the lines of, "take me back to your place and I'll show you," but the wrong words come out, once again:

"I could use some spare change and you're a dime." Michael wants to kill himself.

Cute Dog-Walker Boy laughs again and a blush dusts his cheeks.

"Um, okay," he says, and he looks like he might say more, but one of the dogs jumps up on him, and says, "Calum, let's gooo!" Michael quirks an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah. I thought it'd be cool if dogs could talk. Not so much," the boy, Calum, explains, flushing. Michael chuckles.

"I should get going," Calum says, waving to Michael. Michael goes to say goodbye, but instead says, "Did you sit in sugar? Because you've got a pretty sweet ass!"

Calum turns around, his face beet-red, snickers, and walks away with his dogs.

Michael's To Do List includes:

  * Tie a noose
  * Murder Ashton



 

_"Ashton Fletcher Irwin, what the fuck did you do to me?"_ Michael demands as he runs into their shared apartment an hour later, his hair a vibrant red. Ashton comes back in from the balcony with a faux-innocent grin on his face, and Michael really should smack it off.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about, Mikey," he says, his tone a venomous sweet. Michael contemplates strangling him.

"Oh, really? You don't know how it ended up that I ran into the _hottest guy I have ever seen in my entire life_ today, and all I was able to say to him were awful pickup lines?"

Ashton quirks an eyebrow, looking pleased with himself. He takes a sip of his tea and grins into his mug; Michael can see it from where he stands, and he wants to knock the hot liquid into Ashton's face. He's about to flick his fingers to do so, but remembers -- _Ashton is a grudge holder._ So, he keeps his fingers to himself and hopes that Ashton understands the murderous look he's giving him. Understands it _too well._

"Hmm," Ashton hums thoughtfully, still feigning innocence, "that's interesting. Is that a new trick you taught yourself?"

 Michael growls.

"How long am I stuck like this?" He asks, too agitated to entertain Ashton, who still looks thoroughly pleased, even though Michael's not playing his games.

 "About a week and a half," Ashton answers, snickering to himself.

 Michael groans. He hates his best friend. Hates him. So much.

He mumbles something about murder and Ashton and scaring off cute boys as he storms back out of the house, guitar still in hand, and makes sure to turn Ashton's tea into pickle juice as he's leaving. He almost smiles when he hears Ashton's dramatic spit-take and whine of, _"Hey!"_

 

 

It's been three days since Michael's discovered Ashton's little prank. He hasn't left the house since he stormed out on Ashton; he had walked down the street, grumbling to himself, and stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes landed on Calum The Cute Dog Walker, out walking his dogs again. He meets his eyes and promptly turns around, heading back into his flat.

 He's been cooped up in his room, wallowing in self pity and burning hatred for his best friend. Ashton's not having as much fun with the prank as he should be, so he plots with Luke.

 

 

 

 

 

 On the fourth day of hiding away from the world, Michael leaves his room to discover that Luke and Ashton have left him alone in the house. There's a note from Ashton on the fridge that reads,

_Mikey,_

_Luke and I are going to be out all day, so I guess that means you'll have to feed and take care of yourself. Sorry for the massive inconvenience._

_\- Ashton x_

Michael can't help but think that this entire thing is a bit sketchy. But that also may be the part of his brain that's deathly afraid of Ashton and his magical capabilities.

 

His stomach grumbles, and he tries to open the fridge, only to be shocked by the handles. He yelps and sticks his finger in his mouth, glaring at the fridge. _He should've known._ _Ashton is the devil._

A spell like this is rather simple, and usually, Michael can reverse them with a snap of his fingers, but the thing with Ashton is that he's put a lock on all of his spells and tricks. No one actually knows how he managed to do that. He's made them all so that he's the only one who can reverse them, and it is honestly one of the worst things in the world. Who decided to give him such power? Michael groans and knocks his head on cupboards, which turn out to shock him, too. Ashton wants him to either starve or humiliate himself. 

Suddenly, a light bulb flickers on inside Michael's head, and he _definitely does not_ do that cheesy thing in movies where people shout, "Aha!" with their finger in the air; _DELIVERY._

Michael snickers to himself and counts it as a victory.

He reaches for his phone and dials in the number for the pizza parlor around the corner... Only to have his phone pop and sizzle in his hands.

_Dammit, Ashton._

Michael runs his hands over his face in exasperation and weighs his options: Starve, or risk seeing Calum again in public and embarrassing himself.

His stomach grumbles again, and Michael is resigned to his fate. He puts on some boots and a jacket and makes his way out. He's a brave man, Michael is. 

He makes it a block away from his apartment when he decides the coast is clear; he's not going to run into Calum and his talking dogs tonight. His hair makes its way to a nice white, his neutral, calm color. He walks into the parlor with a bounce in his step, happy as he can be with his given situation. He can't wait to rub it in Ashton's face the next time he sees him. He's pondering the way to go about it, and stops abruptly when he meets a familiar pair of brown eyes. Oh, _Jesus Christ._

Calum is sitting alone in a corner booth, a slice of Hawaiian pizza halfway to his mouth. He looks cuter than ever, with a little bit of pizza sauce smeared above his lip and ruffled hair. Michael wants to kiss him.

Michael has half a mind to run out, ignore the hunger ache in his stomach, and lock himself in his room again, but he realizes that Calum's already seen him and probably thinks he's weird enough, so he holds his ground. His hair is no doubt a fiery red to match his flushed cheeks right now.

He orders his pizza with a stutter and eyes that keep darting back to Calum, who's back to eating his pizza with a vigor. Michael is so endeared.

He calms down some as he waits for his order, to-go of course, and notices that his hair is back to white. It's probably getting whiplash. He's too busy pondering whether hair can really get whiplash or not that he doesn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him until a voice says,

"Hello!"

He jumps and turns around, his eyes bulging out of his head and his face reddening when he sees the owner of said voice. Calum The Cute Dog Walker. Wonderful. Michael gives him an embarrassed smile and a shy wave, waiting for the ground to swallow him whole.

"What does the red mean?" Calum asks abruptly, and Michael can hear his slight lisp clearly now, and oh, _god,_ Michael just wants to kiss him and boop his nose. Weird, Michael. He realizes he might've been staring for too long when Calum expands,

"Ya know, the hair? It turns red every time I come around." 

Oh, great. Calum's observant. Just what Michael needs.

"Do you have a map? I'm getting lost in your eyes," is what he says. He's accepted his fate. He will humiliate himself in front of this adorable boy who still has pizza sauce on his lip and owns talking dogs and then he'll let the nearest car slam him into oblivion.

Calum's eyebrows shoot up and he chuckles nervously. He seems -- _flustered_ _,_ for lack of a better word. His cheeks are tinted pink now, and Michael smirks a little bit.

"Will you ever actually speak to me in anything other than bad lines?" He asks playfully. 

"I don't have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?"

Calum actually lets out a loud, abrupt laugh at this one.

"At least tell me your name?"

Michael wants to, _so badly,_ but he doesn't know if Ashton's even allowed him to say his own name. He probably hasn't, the bastard. He goes for it, anyway.

"Are you a parking ticket? 'Cause you've got fine written all over you," and, yup, Ashton is a bastard. Michael groans and drops his head.

Something clicks in Calum then, and his eyes widen with amusement and his mouth drops open.

"It's a charm, isn't it? Someone did this to you, yeah?" He asks. Michael nods sheepishly.

"How long?" Calum pulls a pen out of his pocket and grabs a napkin from the dispenser for Michael to write on. Genius boy, he is. Michael is a tiny bit in love.

**Another seven days, I think.**

Calum laughs. "That sucks. Does it go for everyone you talk to?" Michael feels his hair growing red again and he coughs awkwardly.

**No. I think my friend made it so that it happened only when I talk to the cutest person I meet.** He hides his head in his hands.

Calum lights up, though. He smiles and he's blushing madly. "Well.. That's cool. How'd he do that?"

**He's ridiculously good at charms. No one really knows how he does it. He made it irreversible, too. All of his spells have a lock on them so that he's the only one who can reverse them.**

"Hmm. What's your name?"

**Michael.**

Calum nods thoughtfully. He doesn't speak for a moment, and Michael's thinking Calum's started to judge him based upon his inferior magical capabilities or his name or his poor choice in friends, but Calum shocks him when he says,

"I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I have yours?"

 

 

 

 

 

Michael barges back into the flat with a wide smile on his face and bright pink hair. Luke and Ashton have returned, and Ashton goes to make a snarky comment about how his day was, until he sees his hair. Ashton sighs in defeat and turns back to Luke haughtily.

"What's got you so happy?" Luke inquires.

"Ashton's charm may have given me the power to win over the cutest boy I've ever seen in my life, and I've got a date with him once this bad pickup line mayhem is all over. Also, I get to rub this all in Ashton's face."

Ashton's got his arms crossed and a pout on his lips, and while Luke is chuckling, he leans over to kiss it off. Michael can't wait until he and Calum can out-cute them.

 

 

 

The first thing Michael says to Calum when he's charm-free and picking him up for their date is,

"Y-you. Wow. Um. You look- wow." His hair is as red as the roses in his hands, and he's gaping as he stands in front of a beautiful boy who's giggling at him.

"You were much smoother under the charm," Calum responds cheekily, and accepts Michael's roses with a kiss on the cheek. Michael is on cloud nine. His hair is a pretty pink, now.

Calum smiles and ruffles it.

 

At the end of their dinner date full of laughing and flirting and talking without the reigns of an awful curse, Michael and Calum stand in front of Calum's front door. Calum's hands are wound behind Michael's neck and Michael's around Calum's waist, and their faces are inches from each other. Michael's never been so happy to have been cursed in his life.

"So, um. Did you have fun tonight? I did," he asks Calum awkwardly, as if he's afraid Calum will pull away and smack him, throw his roses down the garbage disposal.

Calum smiles and nods, biting his lip. His eyes flicker to Michael's mouth, and that's all Michael really needs to gather the courage to lean down a little bit and press his lips to Calum's. Calum tastes like garlic, and it's not all that pleasant, but it's Calum and he's beautiful and skilled with his tongue and everything is so, so right. When they pull back for air, Calum giggles and says,

"Do you work at Starbucks? Because I like you a-latte."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS FUN HEHE and i have like four more drafts lmao i'm ridiculous and high school will be updated i swear one day


End file.
